Meet Me Under The Mistletoe
by Silverstar
Summary: She should never have agreed to this. Now she was sitting, alone, at the Christmas party and wondering what she was meant to do about the note she'd discovered underneath her cocktail glass: Meet me under the mistletoe...


_**So, not the Christmas fic I had planned. But this idea would just not leave me alone and the Muse can be very demanding when she wants to be. So I wrote this one-shot instead, so oh well. Obviously I don't own any of the songs mentioned, nor do I own Love Actually. (I wish I did though. That would be amazing)**_

 _ **Enjoy :)**_

* * *

Christmas parties. They were always the same – brightly coloured lights and red glitter sprinkled across the floor, where a tangled nest of fairy lights would surround the DJ, who was normally some spotty teenager who looked incredibly bored. Penelope couldn't blame him really – his girlfriend was at the cinema and had invited him along. Instead he was stuck, pushing a sliding button up and down to control the volume of the music.

The same old songs as well. _All I Want for Christmas is You, Santa Baby, Last Christmas_. Still, at least _Wham!_ was relatively good. This year they'd included a few _Michael Buble_ tracks in there, something new for the karaoke session the slightly tipsy assistants would start up later on, whilst salivating over their overly handsome bosses.

The Christmas tree was beautiful, golden lights combined with red baubles and paper snowflakes cascading down from green pine needles. Every so often, someone would come and sit down, before being asked to dance again. A few business men were slouched on stalls at the bar, alcoholic drinks in glasses clutched in sweaty palms, the drunken speeches being rehearsed for the closing finale.

Why was she here again? She honestly had no idea why she'd agreed. She didn't have any family as such (as far as being blood relations went anyway) to go and celebrate with, and yet she would do anything to be curled up under a mink coloured faux fur blanket on her sofa amongst a pile of cushions with her modest Christmas tree in the corner of the room whilst she scrolled through the TV channels, searching for the normal Chick Flicks. She would end up crying during _Love Actually,_ as she always did when Sam's Mum died.

It was her own fault for answering that phone call. Parker had asked for time off, to go into the heart of London to meet up with a few of his pals. She suspected that was asking for trouble – alcohol and ex thieves never exactly went hand in hand with the police officers who would stand shivering under lamp posts on street corners, dreaming about home cooked turkey.

She had been half way through watching one of those tacky yet totally loveable American Christmas Romances where a decent widowed man would meet a woman, and fall in love under the mistletoe, normally with a young child involved who would whisper about _'Mummy'_ and _'Santa Claus'_ every five minutes in a whiny voice. Totally enjoyable, despite the film ratings of about 1.5 on the IMDb website. The phone had been perched on the coffee table. Coffee table? She suspected she could technically call it a tea table given she had not had a coffee sit on since she had bought five years ago.

It had rung just as the adverts had come on – come and buy tacky wooden furniture from our nearest store before our never-ending sales finally finish on Christmas Day, or if you're lucky then New Year's Eve. She remembered clearly swinging her legs round off the white sofa and padding across the cream carpet to pick it up. The plastic had been cold against her cheek as she supported it with her shoulder, muting the TV with a single touch to the remote.

"It's going to be such a boring party, but I have to go. Apparently someone has to show their face to prove that we do care about the business. I pulled the short straw this time as Johnny's in orbit."

She had laughed, tucking her toes under the warm blanket and reaching for the mug of hot chocolate. Parker had thoughtfully placed her favourite brand of marshmallows just within reach and she scattered a few on the surface, watching them sink beneath the liquid before switching on the video-link screen so she could see her friend.

"So, the point is that I need a friend to come with me, or else I'll be cornered by men in rather scary looking business suits all evening and not be allowed to drown my sorrows in horrible Christmas music and champagne that they serve non stop despite the taxi drivers complaints."

She frowned at him , tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She was wearing the pearl earrings her mother had given to her when she was young. "Are you asking me to come with you to the Tracy Industries Christmas Party?" She asked him in an incredulous tone, nudging her small dog with one toe. The animal gave a grunt and refused to move. She didn't mind too much – Sherbet made a good foot warmer whilst her slippers were still heating on the radiator.

He winced, looking apologetic, running a hand through dark brown hair. "Sorry, I know, it's a rubbish idea that doesn't even think contemplating, but I need you to come. Please? As a personal favour or else I'll have thrown myself out the window before the karaoke even begins at nine or ten?"

"In England, it tends to be at ten," She commented aloud, considering her engagements for the week. She had nothing written in the diary, unusually for her. The prime minister was having dinner with just his family this year thank God, so no more irritatingly tight yet flattering pink dresses must be worn on December 20th.

"Please?" It was the wide blue eyes that made her resolve crumble. She should have known better than to look directly at him. She'd never been able to resist that look, which normally landed her in trouble.

"Alright," She sighed, looking over her shoulder at the window. Through the glass, the first few flakes of snow of the cold season were beginning to fall, drifting to the ground like dancers. Graceful and quiet.

"Thanks Penelope!" He'd had a grin on his face as he ended the call, looking a lot more happy. She hid a smile as she turned the TV back on. He'd been wearing a red Santa jumper which would have gone down well with his brothers. He was such a dork at times, and she loved him anyway.

Parker had crept back in at six am the next morning, looking rather bedraggled, disappearing back into his room to have a shower before reappearing, clutching his head miserably. Penelope had been curled up on a chair in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea between her hands, listening to the top ten Christmas tracks for the year, but not really focussing on the music drifting from the radio, instead recalling a pair of earnest blue eyes pleading with her the evening before.

She sighed, despite trying to hide her feelings. Parker noticed. Of course he did, she was like his adopted daughter – he noticed everything that bothered her. She sometimes wondered if he knew her better than she knew herself. It came in handy. If only he liked Sherbet better.

"Is everything alright M'lady?" He asked her, turning away from where he'd been dissolving a painkiller in a glass of water for his headache and crossing the tiled floor to sit down next to her at the table. The chair grated cringingly against the ground and she winced in sympathy.

"I have been invited to a party Parker, by a young man who I believe I have feelings for." She explained, narrowing her eyes as she flicked a piece of fluff off her pyjamas.

Parker contemplated this with a thoughtful smile. "I noticed Scott had called." He commented, with a sideways glance at her. "I have already organised a shopping trip for you, this morning at ten."

She smiled. He really did know her better than she knew herself. "Thank you Parker."

He nodded, and returned to his painkillers. A few moments later she heard him humming jingle bells quietly, just audible and unable to resist the familiar song, she started singing along. He laughed, without turning to look at her, knowing that she'd be smiling. She was always more relaxed at home, with just Sherbet and him around. A small and slightly dysfunctional family, but one that she loved despite herself.

It was a rather unsuccessful shopping trip at first, and she was forced to turn to Parker in utter despair, as with a desperate gasp and rather un-ladylike flop into a chair beside him, she whispered in horror: "Parker, I have no idea which suits me best. Please help me."

"You look splendid in all of 'em M'lady," He told her politely and Penelope raised her eyebrows at him, crossing one ankle over the other and attempting to block out the chattering from large crowds of Christmas shoppers. They were out in the thousands today, plastic bags swinging from elbows and colourful jackets and bobble hats clinging to heads.

"Tell me the truth," She begged, with a pleading look at him. He made a twirling motion with his finger and she grinned, leaping to her feet. She enjoyed shopping with him when he was truthful.

"Too pink."

She re-appeared a few moments later in a different outfit.

"Not…" He made a few gestures with his hands, flushing and she giggled, disappearing to change yet again. The changing room was small, but she made do. The music was slightly tinny – the speaker was old and worn.

"Too catlike."

"Too long."

"Too short."

"That one 'as no sleeves M'lady." He looked suitably shocked and she had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing aloud.

"Per'aps a different colour?" He suggested and she frowned, contemplating the idea. It wasn't a bad thought, and she had never considered it before, always going for pink, red, white or gold, the same colours she had always worn and loved for years. The pink, her favourite, red for Christmas, white for snow and gold because she looked good in it. The idea of wearing something different was shocking and yet exciting.

"You think?"

"I reck'n the silver and blue dress we saw on the way 'n was a good 'un."

She gasped, remembering in an instant the dress in question. It had stood on a rack by the sliding glass doors and when she had walked in, it had been the second thing she'd noticed about the shop. The first had been the wave of hot air from the heating. "You're right."

A few minutes later, she stepped out, spinning on the spot. The dress wasn't down to her ankles, but was below the knee and was flattering in all the right places. Paired with the high-heels she'd fallen in love with, she followed Parker out to the car, satisfied with her purchases.

Now all she had to do was phone a friend. Makeup problems called for desperate measures, and Tin-Tin was nothing if not a good secret keeper.

* * *

Scott had his back to her when she arrived, leaning against the wooden doorframe attempting not be strangled by the journalists and photographers who were surrounding him like vultures. He looked out of place in the suit, although Penelope figured it was because she was used to seeing him in casual clothes or his IR uniform.

Parker whispered good luck in her ear before disappearing like a ghost or a cat. She blinked, glancing around to try and spot where he had got to before stepping gracefully over the cobble stones towards her friend. Scott noticed her, and then had a double-take, staring in shock. He ignored the journalists, offering her his hand and then grinning.

"Wow." He whispered, leaning in closer so that she could hear him.

"Wow?" She replied in a questioning tone as he led her into the large room where most people were already gathered. He spun her round to face him. We wish you a Merry Christmas was playing in the background.

"Wow, as in you look…amazing." He flushed, looking down at his shoes in embarrassment before meeting her amused gaze. It was the reaction she had been hoping for after all.

"Thank you," She told him, acting cool still, not because of the journalists, but because she wanted to play hard to get. He had taken the bait big time. She was surprisingly good at this entire _'impress and flirt_ ' idea. That time spent watching Chick Flicks had clearly paid off.

They sat talking, beside the Christmas tree for the first forty-five minutes. He bought her a drink, and she thanked him. They talked a bit more. She tried to ignore the way he always ended up grinning when he spoke about his family or when he laughed. She could never be with him, he didn't have the slightest idea about her true feelings.

That was before he'd had literally been dragged away by businessmen, looking back over his shoulder at her with a genuine ' _help me'_ expression on his face. She waved after him, before realising she was alone, at a party, with no one that she knew. Plus there was a very bad clump of flashing lights draped over the disco ball that was giving her a headache.

Not such a great evening. Parker had sent her a message on her phone, and she replied instantly.

 _Going well. Don't worry yourself._

Because he would worry. She'd seen him worry about her relationship with the eldest Tracy brother because her last romantic friendship had ended in heartbreak. Scott was a totally different person to the last one though.

"Hey honey."

She watched the drunken employee stagger off the dance-floor and lock his gaze on her, before stumbling unsteadily over to her. Target locked, she could almost hear his brain tick. Awkward. She needed back up, and instantly.

Scott was still nowhere to be seen, and the man sat down next to her. She shifted away slightly, before realising that there was nowhere else to go. She'd made the mistake of backing into a corner, everything her training had absolutely taught her not to do. Well, it was Christmas, she was allowed some mess-ups.

"All I want for Christmas is yoo-ouuu." He sang, terribly out of tune. He stunk of vodka. She shuddered. Disgusting. Smack the idiot round the face and have done with it. Give the press an early gift, why don't you? They were like little robotic flies, hovering around the exit. Mind you, a billionaire's son? No wonder they wanted to photograph Scott. The poor guy was probably hiding behind the DJ or something.

"Please go away. I am waiting for my friend to return," She explained, keeping her head held high, and attempting to ignore the figure slouched next to her. He leaned across, with wide brown eyes.

"Aw, c'mon beautiful. Looks to me like he's dumped you."

The awful thing was that Penelope feared he was right. She shot a glare at the man, like he was something she had discovered stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"Back off," She growled as he made a move towards her.

"No," He shot back, and leaned forwards to kiss her, only to be intercepted with a punch, and yanked to his feet by his collar into the light.

"I thought my date asked you to leave her alone?"

The _'oh crap'_ look that crossed the man's face as he realised that, oh damn, damn, _damn,_ he had just made a move on _Scott Tracy's_ date was priceless and he squeaked, wriggling. Scott let go of him, dropping him as he clenched his fists. Penelope noticed, hiding a smile. Her friend had only just stopped himself from hitting the drunk.

"Get away from here, or next time I will hit you a lot harder. Understand? Go and enter yourself in the throw a sponge at the nearest selfish idiot contest, it may sober you up a bit."

Penelope accepted the helping hand to her feet gratefully and turned to face him. She could see the pale snow getting heavier outside, glowing golden flickers such as candlelight as the lights from the party flooded it. "Thank you."

Scott was still glaring after him. "Don't worry about it. I had to 'explain' the newest addition to the aeronautical side of Tracy Industries. I don't understand it myself. Next time I nominate John. But hey, at least I get to spend some time with you." He frowned, glancing around at the dark area of the room she was hidden in. "What's a pretty girl like you doing hiding in a corner?"

Oh, so the Tracy charm was on was it? She had experience evading that. Her problem was that she didn't entirely want to evade it. The _Wham!_ track started playing again and she glanced down at her silver heeled shoes.

 _Ask me to dance, Scotty._ She couldn't help the thought.

He glanced over at the packed dance floor with a new found interest. "I'm rubbish," He admitted, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "Virgil's better."

"I'm sure if you found the right partner to learn with then you would do splendidly." Penelope told him casually, inspecting the nail polish on her right hand. Scott still looked nervous, which tickled her humour when she considered he saved people from life threatening situations every day without a second thought. What, did he think he was going to get impaled by her shoes or something if he took a wrong step? Actually, that was more than likely. Why had she chosen heels?

Scott frowned, before taking a step closer to her. "Fair point M'lady." She laughed. "So, Penelope, care to dance?"

"If you're asking."

"I most certainly am."

She glanced up and then felt her resolve crumble. Oh what the hell, it was Christmas. "Then yes, I would like that very much."

* * *

"So, any plans for Christmas Day?" Scott asked, sitting back in his chair and watching her. The bartender was bustling around bald red-faced man at the other end of the bar who was demanding a beer.

Penelope watched him for a moment, revelling in the moment as she imagined: what if there was mistletoe above them right now? Stop it, stop it. She had enjoyed their dance and despite his protests otherwise, he was fairly good at it. She had half considered kissing him before deciding that she was going to keep to traditions. The guy goes for the girl, not the other way around. She dropped several hints.

"Nothing much," She admitted, taking a sip of her cocktail. There was a little Santa hat on the end of the stick instead of an umbrella and she stroked it with one finger absent mindly. Scott frowned.

"Really?" He asked, leaning forwards to reach for his drink. "I'd have thought you'd have people queuing up out of your gates to ask you over for the day."

"No. I just have eyes for one man." She murmured, staring into her cocktail. The temperature had dropped in the room since the heating had been turned off earlier in the evening. People were milling around, half of them barely able to stand up properly and the other half bored out of their minds. It was snowing outside still, a pale white frosting floating down to cover everything in its path.

Scott cast a rueful grin over his shoulder that she suspected he didn't know she'd seen. "Lucky guy."

"He's perfect," She replied, trying to contain her laughter as he stared down at his black shoes. He really had no idea. There was a loud call of her name from the other side of the room and she looked up to see a familiar figure waving at her. "You never told me Natasha would be here?"

Scott shrugged half-heartedly, flicking a piece of tinsel. "Yeah. I guess." He stared after her as she slid off her stool, and crossed the room. She'd head back in a minute, when she'd finished talking to her friend.

When she returned a few minutes later, she stopped, freezing when she realised he was gone, without even saying goodbye.

"Excuse me, when did he leave?" She asked the bartender who shrugged, cursing as a yell for another round of drinks came from the other end of the bar. He seemed to consider ignoring it for a minute, before clenching his fists, grabbing a tray of glasses and disappearing to join them.

Penelope stood, frozen to the spot for a few seconds, still unable to comprehend, that hey, had Scott seriously just left her there? Lifting her drink, the glass cool against her wrist, she gasped, spotting a small note underneath. Always secretive, she checked first to make sure she was unnoticed before unfolding the scrap of paper and frowning.

 _Meet me under the mistletoe._

Strange. It didn't look like Scott's writing. She didn't know whether to happy that someone wanted to kiss her, or start crying that she'd lost her guy yet again. Still, it was almost midnight with the clock ticking to each heartbeat and the snow outside combined with the music was enough to make her feel the Christmas spirit so she set off around the dance floor, behind the Christmas tree where the mistletoe hung from a light-bulb. It was a dim light and she leant back against the wall, waiting.

Someone slipped in behind her, and she whipped around, ready to defend herself if need be. "Hello?"

The figure placed a hand on her shoulder, chuckling. "Relax Penny, it's only me."

She relaxed, recognising his voice instantly and thankful for the dim light as he couldn't see her smile. "Scott, did you follow me?" She asked him, grinning as he gave her a sheepish look.

"No, you followed me technically. I did leave a note. I mean, I'm not the lucky guy but hey, you know…its Christmas, and if I can't be honest now, especially after a couple of drinks then when can I be?"

"What are you talking about?" She whispered back, looking up at him. He shrugged, leaning closer to her, whispering softly into her ear.

"Just…um…" He was looking very awkward at that point, glancing over his shoulder. "I didn't have to come to the party. It was an excuse to see you. And… because…"

"Yes?"

He nodded at the mistletoe as if it was obvious. Which, of course, it was. She tried to hide her smile and then gave in as he leaned forwards and kissed her. She was shocked, of course she was, and because it Christmas, and there was _All I Want for Christmas is You_ playing over the speakers, and she'd just had two cocktails (really, what was wrong with her?) and she was wearing a crazy dress and _Scott Tracy_ had just kissed her and nothing made sense and she loved it.

"Sorry. Just had to do that before you go off with the other guy." He admitted. "What's his name anyway?"

She laughed, leaning closer towards him. "His name…Scott Tracy."

"Wait, what?" He frowned, as she lifted the mistletoe closer towards them.

"Meet me under the mistletoe." She whispered, as a way of explanation, smiling as his eyes lit up. Shh." She kissed him back, conscious of the clock chiming midnight. Christmas Day and she'd gotten her wish, just like she'd hoped for. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

 _ **Yes, I know, I am strange. But I had to write that, or face being bitten by about ten thousand rabid plot bunnies all at once. They're vicious, I'm telling you. Now I need to go and get ready to meet up with my friend to exchange Christmas gifts, but happy Christmas everyone. I hope you get everything you wanted!**_

 _ **By the way, I forgot to proof read this, so sorry for any mistakes there may be. Blame the certain younger sister who keeps asking me if I can track Santa for her on my iPad. Ah, I love her really. :)**_

 _ **Just wondering...you know what I would love for Christmas? For you all to review?**_

 _ **Kat x**_


End file.
